A Vampire's Diary
by LeinadDjo
Summary: A Diary of my original character for the RPG. Read or don't, I care not.
1. The Begining

My name is Byron, and I am a vampire. Not one of those vicious, murderous, soulless, life-sucking monsters you see on the news and in movies. I leave that to lawyers. I am just like a regular guy except for the fact that I sleep on a coffin and go to the blood bank from time to time to make a withdrawal.

At least, I am now.

I was once alive, living in England. I was a psychiatrist. Science and medicine were my life. That all changed with…_her_.

Her name was Jennifer. She was young, beautiful, Goth, and _did not, under any circumstances, want to be there._

Her parents had sent her to me, recommended by another one of my patients. Hers was a case I had seen too many times before. Goth, depressed, thoughts and talk of suicide.

After several weeks, she started behaving strangely. Talk of vampires, magic, werewolves, all being real. I tried to get her out of this delusional fantasy.

I thought I had succeeded.

She stopped coming.

After a week her parents called.

She had committed suicide.


	2. Blasphemous Rumors

For a long time, I was lost in a haze of confusion.

_Where did I go wrong? How did I fail? Why? _

I found myself in a seedier part of town. Jennifer had mentioned going to a club here often. _Maybe…yes!_ I had found it.

I went inside. The pounding music, the flashing lights, the smell of smoke, and something _very _illegal.

I wasn't an old fart at 25, so I was accepted without a word. I went in, listened to the music, feeling the beat in my very bones. To this day, the words haunt me.

_Girl at 16, whole life ahead of her,_

_Slashed her wrists, bored with life,_

_Didn't succeed, thank the Lord,_

_For small mercies._

_Fighting back the tears,_

_Mother weeps and no complaints,_

_Sixty candles burning in her mind,_

_She takes the blame,_

_It's always the same,_

_She goes down on her knees and prays._

_I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors,_

_But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor,_

_And when I die, I expect to find him laughing._

_Girl at 18, fell in love with everything,_

_Found new life in Jesus Christ._

_Got hit by a car, ended up,_

_On a life support machine._

_Summer's day, as she passed away,_

_Birds were singing in the summer sky,_

_Then came the rain,_

_And once again,_

_A tear fell from her mother's eye._

_I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors,_

_But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor,_

_And when I die, I expect to find him laughing._

_I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors,_

_But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor,_

_And when I die, I expect to find him laughing._

_I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors,_

_But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor,_

_And when I die, I expect to find him laughing._


	3. A Favor for the Queen

Several weeks passed, all in the same cycle. Helping people during the week, and on the weekends, going to that club. Then, one night, I saw her. Jennifer. Our eyes met, and for a split second, we stared at each other.

Then she turned, and ran. When I tried to follow her, she had disappeared.

Another month went past. I was convinced that she had been an illusion. A trick of the light. A look-alike if nothing else.

Then, I saw her again. She saw me, and strode toward me. Confidant, and, if at all possible, even more beautiful than when I first saw her.

"Mr. Richardson. Don't talk. Just listen. I am who you think I am. My suicide was faked. I am a vampire. Do you understand so far?"

I couldn't help but nod.

"Good. Now, this…" she said, turning towards her companion that I had just noticed, "…is William Smyth. He was my Sire, and he has a message for you from the Queen."

I spoke up at this, "Queen Elizabeth wants me? For what?"

"Not Queen Elizabeth." Explained the mountain that was William. "Queen Anne, the Master of London."

I looked at Jennifer, then William. "What is it?" I asked.

"She wants you to come to her court and heal her Favorite from his insanity."

I thought about it. A chance to study actual vampires, help A, even if not THE, Queen, and study an insane vampire. "Lead on." I said.


	4. Meeting the Queen

A/N: Sorry about that last chapter being so short. This is just sometimes going to happen.

So they led on. So many twists and turns around London I'm not going to bother boring you with details. Suffice it to say, I got lost in my own hometown. We entered a doorway, met with a security guard, who bowed to us when William whispered a in his ear. We came upon a door, heavily barred and locked.

"This is William Smyth!" William boomed. "I am accompanied by Jennifer Wills and Byron Richardson! We come at the invitation of Queen Anne, Long May She Reign!"

The door opened.

Such splendor I had only dreamt of and seen in storybooks of the Old Royalty.

Walls decked out in paintings and tapestries, tables loaded with food and drink, people decked out in clothes from all kinds of different time periods, a thousand tastes and smells and sounds in one glorious harmony of revelry and a cornucopia of celebration.

I was brought before the Queen, and kneeled without prompting.

"This is Byron Richardson, the psychiatrist of renown." It was a question by itself, but she phased it as a statement, as if she knew bloody well who I was.

"Yes, Majesty." Answered William, bowing low.

"Who can vouch for his identity?" Asked the Queen.

"Majesty," said Jennifer, curtseying, "I can say without a doubt that this is indeed he whom I told you of."

"Very well. You may stand, Byron Richardson. Let me look at you."

I stood, and got my first look at her. She was magnificent.

Think of the most beautiful woman you have ever seen, dream or real. Now put her in a gown from Victorian England Royalty. The Queen makes that look like an old hag.

Everything about her was perfect. She didn't look like a porn star, not nearly that slutty. But still, she made every man in the room pant like…well…men in front of a porn star.

"Turn, Mr. Richardson. Slowly. I want to look at you." Her voice was sultry, promising pain and pleasure more exquisite than anything you had ever felt.

I turned, letting her look at my 6'6", 145 lb. frame. She turned her head this way and that, getting a view of me at all angles. "Take off those glasses."

I did so. The room blurred, but somehow the Queen's beauty still shone though.

"You'll do. Take him to my Favorite's room!"

As I was led away, my gaze was still locked with the Queen's. In that moment, every fiber of my being wanted to do anything, _anything,_ to please her.

It frightened me. _What have you got yourself into, Byron?_ Was my last thought before the door to the Favorite's room opened, and I saw him.


	5. The Favorite

AN: Just a warning, this chapter contains pretty explicit insanity. If you are offended by this sort of thing, please just skip this chapter. If you wish to continue reading, don't say I didn't warn you.

Sometimes, a patient would be brought in that I thought was beyond my help. When I laid eyes on the Favorite, well, this was the worst. Blood, vomit, urine, and excrement were all over the walls and floor. The Favorite himself was a gibbering, slobbering thing in the center of it all. He looked up at me as I walked in, and immediately started to calm down. "Good. They got you at last. What took you so long? Well, go on. Get out your stakes, garlic, silver, and what not. Make it quick, though. I don't want to linger."

"What?" was all I could say.

"You are a Vampire Killer, are you not? No…I can tell by your face that you are not. Very well, what are you then. If my Mistress wants me to eat you, you can tell her to bloody well shove that scepter of hers up her-"

"I'M NOT HERE TO KILL YOU OR AS FOOD, I WAS SENT HERE TO HELP YOU!" I bellowed. Looking back, it was probably not the best idea as he started to gibber again.

"Youcan'thelpmenoonecan. I'manevil,digustingthingthatshouldbedestroyed."

"Why do you think that?" I was actually interested in this. After all, who had ever heard of a vampire that felt remorse?

"Lookatme. I'mrotting."

He actually, once you got past the insanity, looked handsome. Come to think of it, so did everyone else here. Did becoming a vampire get you unearthly beauty? Hmmmm…

"Not that I can see."

He started coughing, and then he vomited.

"LOOK! LOOK! THE MAGGOTS! THE MMMAAAAAGGGGOOOOTTTTTTTSSSSS!" He started scratching at his face and mouth.

I launched forward shouting to both the Favorite and William, who had accompanied me. "CALM DOWN! WILL, GRAB HIM!"

I had never seen anything move as fast as William did in that moment. Before I, or the Favorite, knew it, he had the Favorite's arms locked in place, and the Favorite himself still gibbering about maggots.

"There are no maggots. There's just vomit, and a bit of blood."

"They'remaggotsItellyou.MAGGOTS!"

I'll spare you the rest of the conversation, as it is much the same cycle.

After a few months, I had ferreted out that he felt that he looked as old as he really was, and that his body was acting accordingly. He also thought he was rotting from the inside out.

A full year after I had met Queen Anne, I was brought before her. Once again I was stunned by her beauty. "How do you fare?" She asked.

I decided to tell the full truth. "It goes well. However, in order for him to be completely cured, I will need several more years work. And, unfortunately, I won't live forever the way I have for the past year." This was, strictly speaking, true. A man can only live on sweetmeats and water, plus whatever they could steal, for so long. I had found myself wishing for some good blood pudding that didn't have blood in it, or for some good, old-fashioned, country mashed potatoes, with just the right amount of butter…

"You don't have to. We have considered this at length, and, though you are not an artist, we are prepared to offer you a choice. You can become one of my ghouls, loyal only to me, or…"

"Yes…" I said slowly, somehow knowing what was coming.

"You can join our ranks, as a full vampire. Think of it. You'll never have to worry about death again, ever."

"Oh, no. I'll just have to worry about a stake through the heart, or sunlight, or fire, or getting my head lopped off, where and who my next meal is going to be, things like that, right?"

"Oh, please." The Queen looked almost amused by the sarcastic way I talked to her. "A stake through the heart will hurt like hell, and immobilize you, but it won't kill you. Sunlight will burn more than usual, but there are ways around that. As for fire, well, it really isn't even more deadly than normal.

"Plus, it'll be the only way you leave here."

"Why?"

"To preserve the Masquerade. We've taught you enough about our culture that you should have known that."

"Right. Well, uh, hmmm…"

"I'm waiting…"

"This isn't a decision to be made lightly. I want to think about it."

"I've put up with your demands long enough." The Queen started to lose her temper. People died when that happened. "MAKE…YOUR…CHOICE!"

"…Vampire, then."

"Very well. Thank you." She was starting to calm down. "William…"

He turned towards me, and advanced.


	6. The Becoming

AN: For those of you who skipped the last chapter, a year has passed, the Favorite has been mostly cured, and Byron is about to be turned into a vampire.

William advanced. He grabbed me, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to have a firm grip. It was too late to change my mind now. He opened his mouth, fangs glistening in the moonlight. His face descended… a moment of pain…

Then… _power_.

Power.

Power greater than anything I had felt before.

As I felt my life leaving, I could also feel _something_ take its place. Not life, but something far from it. If I was forced to put a word to it, it would be… Unlife.

And then it was over. I was falling into unconsciousness, but before blackness consumed me I heard the Queen say, "Until tomorrow night, Byron."

The next night, the process was repeated. The same feeling of power replacing life. Only this time, it was deeper, more meaningful. Think of sex where both parties are telepaths. Yeah.

The third night, the last night, there was great ceremony. After it was done, I was well and truly dead. I was laid to rest in a shallow grave.

At midnight, I Awoke.

I clawed my way to the surface, and stood there. Dusty, dirty, still somewhat bloody, I stood before the Queen, who held up a mirror.

You see, the clan I was born into was the Belle-Mort, a sub-clan of the Toreador Vampires. I could see my self in the mirror.

_Damn,_ I thought, _I look good._


	7. The Torture

A/N: The following chapter contains the following; Torture, Death, Sadism Masochism, Mind Control. Really guys, check the rating, and decide if you want this floating around in your brain. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Oh, and I don't own anything produced by White Wolf except for their many books. Just thought I'd put that out there.

* * *

After my Awakening, I continued the Favorite's therapy. He was making real progress. I was happy to report to Queen Anne that soon he'd be able to come back to court, provided I was there, of course.

And my lessons continued.

I learned about the new world I was apart of, this…World of Darkness. I learned about Kindred, the Clans, the Jyhad. Weres, and their submission to us. How we could call a certain animal (dogs, in my case). The Fey.

I was truly in my element. New and wonderful things to learn, and all of eternity to refine and practice my craft.

* * *

Then, disaster.

An ambassador from the Samedi Bloodline was coming to court, to negotiate a Non-Aggression Pact with Queen Anne of the Bella-Morte.

For those who don't know, the Samedi look like zombies, complete with rotting flesh.

Needless to say, I suggested to the Queen that it was my recommendation that her Favorite _not_ be there when the ambassador arrived. She disagreed, saying that her Favorite would be by her side at this meeting, and that I would not interfere. She then had me locked in my chambers.

I was able to piece together what happened when the ambassador arrived. The Favorite had a psychotic break, and attacked the ambassador. His guards subdued him, and the ambassador stated, in no uncertain terms, that if the Queen did not want a war for this affront, that she needed to have her Favorite put to death. Immediately.

In the interest of continued peace, she did.

When the treaty had been finalized, the Queen flew into a rage, and there was only one person she blamed for her Favorite's death.

Myself.

* * *

What followed was the worst month of my life.

Imagine, if you will, being locked in a silver-lined coffin, coated on the inside with crucifixes. For _days_.

Being strung up to the ceiling and flogged with a cat o' nine tails that had been dipped in holy water.

I still bear the scars.

But above the torture, above the beatings, there was the ultimate in humiliation.

For the Queen, in her height of wrath and vengeance, had altered my mind so that I perceived pain…as pleasure.

I was forced to beg for even more time in the coffin.

I pled for one more stroke, and another after that.

Knowing full well the damage being inflicted upon my body, and how much it would burn, I cried out for it to continue.

I had treated rape victims before, and had felt for them. But it wasn't until then that I knew what it was like to _be _a victim.

* * *

Finally, the time came when I was called before the Queen, one last time.

She pronounced me guilty of the death of her Favorite, how I had been properly "chastised", and now she was going to grant me "merciful" release.

I would be taken outside, have wooden stakes driven through all four limbs, and left there until the sun set the following night. No need to mention that after a full day in the sun, there would not even be a charred skeleton to collect.

My fate was decided, and my executioner chosen. In the ultimate irony, William would be the one to stake leave me for the sun. My creator, becoming my murderer. I would have wept if I had had the energy.

* * *

That night, as I lay in my cell, Jennifer came to see me.

"I never meant for this to happen, Doctor," she told me, "I never thought…"

"You couldn't have known, child," I said, even in my final moments, wanting to help my former patient.

"I'm sorry."

She whispered it so quietly, I could barely hear her.

Then she kissed me. Her arms wrapped around me, as if she never wanted to let go.

I opened my mouth to protest, and she shoved her tongue inside. A tongue she had bitten, hard, just before the kiss.

It doesn't matter what anyone says; blood, freely given, is far more potent than blood forcibly taken.

Her kiss gave me strength to stand, to take her in my arms and drink. I understood that in this moment, she was saying the farewell she hadn't said before.

All too soon, I was sated, and the bloody kiss was over, but not before something solid passed into my mouth.

"Jewels and gold are in a bag outside the door, and no-one is watching the port," Jennifer whispered to me.

It was the last thing I ever heard her say, and the last time I ever saw her again.

Without a backward glance she walked out of the cell, leaving me alone. Alone with a key to my cell door in my mouth.

* * *

A/N: I know I haven't updated this in a while, and I'm sorry. I'll try to update ALL of my WIPs soon.


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